


Changing of the Seasons

by palateens



Series: It Really Ain't That Bad [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Multi, Non-binary Kenny, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny smiles brilliantly, and Tweek wonders if this is what Craig feels whenever they’re together. </p><p>In which Tweek can see more than just underpants gnomes and he realizes how fucked up Kenny's life is. A one-shot taking place in between chapters 3 and 4 of Five Summers. Can be read as a stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing of the Seasons

When Tweek was a kid…well a younger kid, he absolutely loathed school. He believed it was just a hell hole that his parents could leave him at for eight hours a day. Nine hours, on days when they felt like paying for after school care. It was humiliating being one of those kids whose parents put off picking them up. Especially when his parents had no excuse like work or younger children. 

Now, as an eighth grader, Tweek’s thankful for school. That’s where all his friends are. Sometimes he can focus on menial tasks enough to not be worried about the big things. Like how do his parents afford to keep the shop open? What’s the point of going to college if he just wants to work as a barista for the next fifteen years? And how can he get rid of all these overwhelming feelings of regret?

For as much as people think he’s this incompetent spaz, Tweek’s biggest problem is he thinks too much. It’s a good day if he’s found one thing to keep his mind occupied. Music gets ideas flowing too easily. Sometimes sports work but only for so long because they’re tedious as fuck. Graphic novels don’t force him to imagine too vividly so those are good. Television, that’s where his anxiety mostly fades. At least, when it’s not horrendously shitty. He’ll never forget the first time Clyde got him to watch America’s Next Top Model. It was soothing, but maddening. Who fucking cares about who posed better on some dinky beach? They don’t let their fears show, though. That’s what catches his eye about good competition shows. 

Tweek wishes he could stuff his emotions down far enough. He’s always been jealous of Craig’s neutral face. There’s only so many flinches, pitied looks, and “are you ok?”s that he can take in one day. He should probably go back to therapy. Probably. The last two therapists didn’t believe a word he said about the gnomes, ghosts, fairies, or anything. He didn’t believe it himself until the fucking ghosts started telling him shit no one should know. He can’t run into Mackey in town anymore without suppressing a laugh for his secret beanie baby collection. 

In short, Tweek’s not crazy—not by a long shot. It’s just impossible to deal with it all some days. And people are stupid shits. Just because he won’t talk somedays doesn’t mean he’s ‘improving’. He’s just too caught up in his own head to pay them any mind. Or he’s just too exhausted from caring too much to care at all that day. It’s a cycle he’s become accustomed to. No one to talk to about this shit gets old. Most of the people in this back-water town wouldn’t get the problem if they even believed him. 

Except for Craig. Craig would think he’s full of shit, but if he could prove it, things would be different. Maybe not as great as it was back when they were dating, but Craig had a way about him. His distaste for the world made all of Tweek’s worries just a bit smaller. Not that he can’t go to Craig with his ‘normal’ worries. It’s just not the same when he was Craig’s world versus now that he’s dating Kenny. 

Kenny’s not even a bad person. Really he’s more upset that Kenny’s kind of fucking perfect for Craig. They have a twisted sense of humor that makes his best friend smile. And the way they bulldoze through bullshit, it’s inspiring. But Tweek isn’t Kenny and Craig isn’t in love with him anymore. 

On an evening in late October, Tweek realizes that Kenny isn’t all that they make themselves out to be. He’s locking up after his parents when he sees Kenny on the other side of the street. They’re staring at the crosswalk sign, listlessly. But that’s not what catches Tweek’s eye. It’s the way their skin looks paler than normal; and how they’re clutching their side. Shit, Kenny might be hurt. 

Tweek looks both ways before jaywalking. Shouting Kenny’s name as he jogs. They pay him no mind. He has to stop to catch his breath when he reaches Kenny. 

“Jesus, dude,” Tweek pants. “Couldn’t you hear me?”

That’s when Kenny turns to him. The left side of their face is seeping with blood. It looks like they can’t open their left eye or have mobility of that arm, either. Kenny’s good eye bulges a little when they realize Tweek is talking to them. 

“Holy shit,” Tweek reacts without thinking. “Fuck, I don’t want to sound insensitive but what happened?”

Kenny continues to balk at the other blond. “You can see this?” They finally say.

“Of course I can, fucker,” Tweek gestures somewhat frantically to their injuries. “How are you not in the hospital? C’mon, I can call my dad. He’ll take us. Or fuck, I can bike us there.” 

Kenny’s expression is overtaken with fear and confusion. They’re frozen. Tweek thinks if this was anyone else, they’d be on the floor in agony. But not McCormick. This worries Tweek even more. He can’t just stand around and let Kenny bleed out. 

“I’m dialing 911,” Tweek decides. 

“No!” Kenny shrieks. 

Tweek’s never heard them so upset before. “Are you crazy?” Tweek demands angrily. “You’re going to die like this! Shit, let me help you.” 

Kenny takes what looks like a deep breath. “It’s too late.” 

“It’s not too late!” he insists. “You’re still alive.” 

Kenny shakes their head, mirth crossing their lips. They reach out their good hand, holding it out right in front of Tweek’s cheek. They move it closer, Tweek closes his eyes and waits for a sympathetic pat. It doesn’t come. Instead, a shiver racks through his spine. He opens his eyes. Kenny’s arm is sticking out right in front of Tweek’s nose. He can’t see their hand. He finds himself listening to an ear-piercing cry and wonders on a subconscious level if that’s him. It is.

Kenny shushes him gently. A sad smile crossing their face when they see the epiphany dawning on Tweek. 

“What am I going to tell Craig,” Tweek rasps. 

They look at him sternly. Tweek thinks if they weren’t dead, Kenny would be shaking him violently. “You’re going to tell him I’ll be late for school tomorrow.”

“What?” Kenny’s delusional. They’re dead, so Tweek supposes that’s acceptable. “What then? I’m just supposed to pretend you’re alive until someone tells hi—”

“Fuck Tweek,” they cut him off. “Don’t think about, ok? Just trust me and do this one thing. Please.” 

Tweek wants to believe Kenny. Kenny seems to be desperate to get Tweek to comply. Tweek supposes Craig will have to believe him. Maybe if he’s pissed later on, he can tell him everything. Maybe Tweek will be their connection to each other. It sounds a little fucked up, even to him. But the prospect of being needed feels almost nice. 

He notices that Kenny’s waiting for an answer. He reluctantly nods. 

Kenny smiles brilliantly, and Tweek wonders if this is what Craig feels whenever they’re together. 

Kenny tells him to go home and try to relax. Better said than done. He bikes back to his house, refusing to look back at where Kenny once stood. He puts Nick at Night on in his bedroom. He plans out every lie and story that might work on Craig, rehearses it even. He eventually passes out from exhaustion at three in the morning, not bad considering his day. 

Tweek dreams of blue ski hats and orange parkas. He dreams of hard kisses and gentle fucks; of being wedged in between two people and feeling inexplicably comfortable, at peace. He wakes up in tears, not entirely remembering what had happened in his sleep. He has a distinct impression, however, that he watched Kenny die. 

He walks to school, counting each step methodically to take his mind off of Kenny and they’re fucking beautiful blue eyes. Tweek thinks he’s just being sentimental or some shit like that. When his mind wanders from the number of steps he’s at to the number of freckles he can remember seeing on Kenny’s face, he tears up a little bit. It’s funny how he sees dead people all the time but he's just now garasping how devastating it can be personally. 

Tweek shuffles into school a good half an hour late despite living three blocks away. He keeps a tight smile when the secretary hands him a tardy slip. He apologizes bashfully to his homeroom teacher when he arrives five minutes before math starts. He refuses to look at Craig for the majority of that class. He can feel his friend’s eyes boring into him. He pretends it’s an average school day instead of the weirdest pit of hell. 

During the break, Tweek mechanically stands up. He looks anywhere but his destination, Craig’s seat next to the back door. He sits down in what’s normally Bebe’s seat in front of Craig. His breath is jittery and short. I can do this, he thinks. Before he loses his nerve, he whips his head up. 

Craig’s starring at his phone hidden inside his desk. He has an older model, so he’s become a pro at look other places while typing. Tweek’s known the kid long enough to realize when he’s only pretending to look somewhere. His eyes are staring at Tweek’s, clearly upset. 

“What’s wrong,” Tweek mumbles too low for ease droppers—Kyle—to catch.

“Kenny,” Craig whispers. “Fuck, have you seen them? Where were _you_ this morning?”

“I got caught up,” the blond answers honestly. “And yea, I ran into Kenny last night. They said…” Tweek sighs a little, “they told me to tell you they’ll be late for school today. They’re fine.” 

Craig scrutinizes him closely. “Is Kenny in trouble?” 

Tweek considers whether or not to lie up his ass. He’s come up with a million and a half excuses in the last twelve hours. Yet he can’t find it in him to lie to his best friend. “Honestly? I don’t know. They might be. Kenny was more worried about you than they were about themselves.”

“Fucking idiot,” Craig curses. “They better show up, or I’m going to the McCormick’s house after school.” 

Tweek bites his lip, scared to start hyperventilating and give away his ruse. He takes notes in English, even making a contribution to the discussion. He takes his history midterm, which might have been one of the most excruciatingly difficult experiences of his life. He goes to gym, almost excited to run a mile. Tweek pounds his feet hard against the linoleum floor, smacking it brutally with every footstep. He’s on his last lap, turning a corner, when he sees it out of the corner of his eye. Kenny, as clear as fucking day sneaking into the gym. They’re wearing their orange parka and a black skirt with tattered wool tights. They were wearing jeans yesterday. Their hood’s up, but Tweek can see both of their eyes open and working. 

Tweek sprints ahead of Stan, Token, even Clyde. Fuck, he shoves Red, the fastest person in school, to the side. He can barely feel his feet carrying him as his eyes burn themselves with tears. Tweek’s heart is so far up his throat, he can feel his spirit jumping out of his body. He practically knocks Kenny back a foot as he wraps his arms around them. Kenny’s really here, they’re alive. That fucker. 

Kenny slips their own hood off and shakily returns the boy’s hug. Tweek buries his nose in their wavy blonde hair. Taking in every nuance, memorizing the smell of cigarettes mixed with cheap soap from the factory in town and day-old bread. Tweek’s sobbing hysterically, Kenny starts to rub his back soothingly. 

“I’m ok,” Kenny assures him. “You’re not crazy.” 

Tweek cries harder. 

Craig, having finished his mile and being confused beyond all reason, steps cautiously towards them. Kenny looks up at him gawking a foot away. They wave him over. Tweek’s balling like a baby while Kenny’s laughing quietly. It’s the weirdest thing Craig’s ever seen. He notices Kenny’s eyes getting moist too, it breaks him a little. He wraps them both in his arms. He pecks them both on the forehead. Then he hides his face between their heads, taking in a whiff of their combined scents. Tweek’s sobs dwindle into pained hiccups after some time. Kenny’s practically shaking, but hanging in there. It makes Craig think that they got into the same shit last night and Tweek was covering for Kenny. He wasn’t completely off. 

The raven-haired boy maneuvers them onto the floor behind the bleachers. They sit on either side of him, leaning heavily on him. Craig doesn’t mind, especially when he feels their hands laced together on his back. It’s like they’re prepared to catch him; and he thinks he’s so lucky to have people who care so much that they still think of him when clearly their worlds are falling apart. 

Craig hears a ring, probably the fifth period bell. They skipped science, but at least it’s lunch now. Less class to miss that way. Kenny kisses his side, tenderly. He turns to look at them, their eyes overflowing with emotion. Craig leans down, kissing them firmly on the lips. Their lips catch his in a gentle caress, dominating him to an extent. 

“Babe,” Kenny whispers softly. 

Craig hums in response, squeezing Tweek just a little tighter so he doesn’t feel neglected. 

“Kiss him,” they instruct. 

“You sure?” the taller inspects his significant other carefully. He hasn’t dated Tweek in over two years. What is Kenny trying to pull?

They nod, “He needs it. And I want you to.” 

Craig shrugs a little, turning to his other side. Kenny wouldn’t tell him to do this if they weren’t expecting it to work. Tweek tears himself away from the older boy’s side. Glancing up with wearily. Craig smirks a little, Tweek hasn’t kissed him since their awkward breakup. He’s in for a treat. The older boy dips his head down, crashing into Tweek’s chapped lips. Their mouths dance, pushing against each other while simultaneously taking turns submitting to the other. 

They break, panting somewhat slightly. They both turn to Kenny, who’s sporting the cockiest smirk ever.

“That was fucking hot,” Kenny admits shamelessly. 

Tweek reaches over Craig’s lap, grabbing Kenny by their parka’s collar. He kisses them desperately. Kenny thinks it’s something akin to a dying man taking his first sip of water in days. It’s passionate, but full of trepidation. Kenny meets his pace, bleeding apologies and understanding into each contact. 

Craig continues to be dumbfounded. He can’t shake the feeling that this is how it was supposed to be from the beginning. He demands answers, but much later. When he learns what occurred that day, he’s a little relieved they held out on him. For now, however, he keeps his concerns to himself. 

Kenny invites Tweek to hang out with them more. Tweek asks about Kenny when he and Craig hang out without them. Craig pretends to not notice Tweek’s blushing getting worse by the day. Tweek pretends to not be checking out both their asses as they pass by him in the hallway, holding hands. Kenny pretends like that’s the last time Tweek will catch them dead. 

The next time however, is a little worse. 

It’s a December afternoon, Tweek’s supposed to go see a movie with Stan and Butters. He finds Kenny on a park bench, sitting by themselves staring at the sky. The same eerie feeling that he faced last time surges up from the pit of his stomach. 

He approaches the bench slowly. “Kenny?” 

Kenny’s concentration breaks, forcing them to choke on air, if that’s possible. They stare at Tweek sitting down next to them for a moment. They have to remind themselves that for Tweek, they’re not just some spirit. They’re a person, and shit, that’s hard to get used to. 

“Hey Tweeky,” they grin cheesily. “In case you’re wondering, pretty dead right now. See?” They chuckle as they pass their arm through the back of the park bench. 

“How…” Tweek bites his lip. Maybe it’s a bad idea to ask questions. 

“How what?” Kenny’s fake smile doesn’t falter. 

“Did you die this time? Do you always come back? Do you get by without telling other people about this shit?” Tweek rambles. “Fuck, how all of it?” 

Kenny exhales loudly. Opening their coat, Tweek automatically notices a bullet wound in their abdomen. “Internal bleeding, I think? The fuckers living in our shed got rowdy. Dad sent me out there to keep the peace. They shot first, fled later.”

“Jesus,” Tweek groans. Instinctively, he reaches for Kenny’s hand. It phases through him, saddening him further. 

“I come back every single time,” they continue. “Always back in my bed. I don’t know how. I’ve tried telling Stan and Kyle at least fifty times. No one ever remembers. Until you, that is.” 

“Shit,” Tweek grips his hand until his knuckles turn white. “I feel like an ass.”

Kenny laughs as if Tweek is the most precious thing in the universe. 

“No I’m serious,” he persists. “I mean, fuck, I was never jealous of you. Sad that I fucked my own relationship, sure. And pissed that I couldn’t find a reason to be mad at your perfect ass.” 

“My ass is pretty perfect,” the older teen laughs. They sober up a little bit. “But don’t sweat it. I used to be scared shitless of you.” 

“Me?” Tweek squawks. 

“Why would Craig want some half-dead person when he could have you?” Kenny buries their head in their hands, moaning. “It was hard enough just being white trash and not feeling like a poser in my own life. Shit, I’ve been literally broken too many fucking times. If that’s not damaged goods, what is?” 

Tweek is at a loss. How do you comfort someone who’s already dead? Or soon to be undead? He’s devoid of feelings. No, that’s not true. He feels so much that emotions become white noise. Feelings are a cobweb of unnecessary anxiety. But by the same token, Tweek gets being the screw-up in your own life. It’s something that draws him to Kenny, they get him in a way that no one else does. And despite how fucked up this whole ‘dead kid/medium’ thing is, he hopes they can lean on him for this…metaphorically. 

“Where do you go?” He flinches a little at his bluntness. “Fuck, I mean, if you always come back why haven’t you yet?”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Kenny smiles mirthlessly. “Sometimes I go up to the big house. Sometimes I stay around here for a bit. A lot of the time I get sent straight to hell.” 

“How do you know?” Tweek presses. Kenny’s just acting like this is so fucking normal. Which, albeit it probably is for them. 

“I don’t,” they reply honestly. “All there is to do is wait for the Reaper. He usually has orders one way or another. Unless they forget about me and then I just get sent back after a day or two.” 

“That’s bullshit,” their friend growls indignantly. 

“It’s life…or fuck, it’s death, I guess.” Kenny chuckles. 

They both stay silent for a bit. Tweek checks his phones. He’s a block away from the theatre and the movie starts in ten. But he can’t just leave Kenny here, waiting for their routine damnation as it were. 

“Does it matter where you are for the Reaper to find you?” he asks. 

Kenny shrugs, “I guess not. There’s just usually nothing for me to do but bum around.” 

“Wanna go to the movies? I mean, I was already going with Stan and Butters. But you should come! It’ll be less boring than this.” Tweek blurts out in one breath. 

Kenny hopes off the bench with glee. “Alright, but you asked, you’re paying.” 

Tweek laughs, maybe a little too hard for propositioning an apparition. 

The movie is a run-of-the-mill action flick, but Kenny’s commentary is spot-on. Tweek gets a few concerned gazes from Stan when he laughs in the middle of a fight sequence, but overall it’s a good day. Tweek parts ways with the boys, getting a block away before awkwardly asking Kenny if they want to go back to his place. 

“Movie and your place?” Kenny traipses their words seductively. “Why Mr. Tweak, you are a charmer.” 

“Shut up,” his face blushes brightly.

Tweek spends the night letting Kenny abuse his family’s satellite television. They flip through channels, asking about shows other than what’s available on public access and the shit Marsh and Broflovski like. They talk with Tweek about premises and memories of watching something in a reception area or hospital. Tweek stays up until four learning everything he can about the enigma that is Kenny. Sure he’s talked to sane ghosts before, but they won’t all come back later. 

When he wakes up, he sees Kenny’s nowhere to be found. He feels like shit for leaving them alone for who knows how long. The blond checks his phone; a notification pops up.

One new message: Craig

He unlocks his phone. Scrolling quickly to his rarely used texting app. The older boy’s message reads “Ken said to tell you they got home safe.”

Tweek sighs in relief. “Thanks” he texts back. 

“They also says to stop beating around the fucking bush and just ask us out already.” 

“I’m supposed to ask YOU out? In your dreams, Tucker.” 

“Fine.” 

Tweek’s ears perk up a little bit. A light tapping is coming from his window. He jumps out of his bed when he realizes the noise is being by flying rocks. He throws the window open, getting a pebble to the face in the process. Groaning, he searches for the source of this assault on the ground. Craig and Kenny are in his backyard, bundled up in winter gear. Standing in the melted sludge from last night’s snow storm mixed with a new round of powder. They each have one hand holding the other’s protectively. 

“Tweek Tweak, you adorable shit you,” Craig yells up. “Go out with us.” 

“Was throwing rocks at my window necessary?” He sneers half-heartedly. 

“Indeed it was, Captain Dillhole,” the raven-haired teen punctuates. 

“Come on, Tweeky,” Kenny croons. “I want you. You want he,” they sing to the tune of Barney. “We’ll be a happy family. With a great big dick and kiss from me to y—”

“Christ,” the younger groans. “Shit, ok.” 

“And…” Craig presses. 

“And what?” 

“Don’t you want to invite your dates in to your lovely home?” Kenny prompts. 

He shakes his head, before closing the window. He bolts down the stairs, practically ripping the glass door open to usher the two inside. 

“Fuck it’s twenty degrees out here. What were you thinking standing around out there?” He glares at the back yard as if it were the root of all evil. 

“Obviously this was Kenny’s idea,” Craig brushes freshly fallen snow off his jacket. 

“Clearly, I need to reconsider my dating prospects,” Kenny jeers. 

“You adore me and you know it,” Craig volleys. 

“Actually, I adore both of you,” Kenny corrects. 

“So that’s it?” Tweek intervenes. “Just like that we’re what? Dating?”

“Yep,” the taller boy kisses his temple. “Got a problem with that?” 

“No, no,” the blond starts to assure them. “That’s—”

 

Tweek looks between both of them. They stare at him expectantly. He thinks that in another time, place, or situation, this would never work out. They’d be three people drifting out in the cosmos. But somehow, they found each other. Each of them did. Kenny’s this soul brimming with love and compassion in an abyss of apathy. But they’re also obscene and crass, like a vivid Jackson Pollock come to life. Craig has this gift for keeping them both safe and grounded. In the same breath that he’s callous and pithy, he’s also gentle and unassuming. And the more Tweek thinks about it, the more he can see his piece fall into place. 

Kenny’s a dreamer, and Craig’s a cynic. Sure, Tweek’s a high-strung asshole. But he’s also a pusher and an empath. Since the first time the three of the felt like a ‘we’, he’s been able to read them like a fucking book—playing the field between what they want and what can be done. If Kenny’s the mind, and Craig’s the soul, Tweek is the fucking heart that keeps them beating. And that’s more than great that’s 

“Fucking perfect.”


End file.
